


Gifting

by Eriakit



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Gift Giving, M/M, playing with ideas from that very gay little WQ on the broken shore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriakit/pseuds/Eriakit
Summary: "A gift.”Illidan tilted his head, confused. “For whom?”“For you, of course. Why else would I be giving it to you?”





	Gifting

**Author's Note:**

> The Mud Mucking WQ on the Broken Shore has had me doing the Gay Seal meme at Khadgar since the first time I did it and I finally figured out what I wanted to write about it. Also, I am disappointed with all of my fellow Killidan/Illigar shippers because the only other fic with khadgar/illidan in it is khadgar/maiev/illidan and that is just wrong on so many levels. 
> 
> (pfft no I'm not, I'm squealing with glee I get to go FIRST on this timesink of a website for once.)
> 
> Fun fact: it took me longer to name this fic than it did to write it. I suck at titles, this is known.

Khadgar shuffled nervously from foot to foot, waiting for the right moment to act. He almost missed it - one elf left his quarry’s immediate vicinity, conversation over, and another was approaching when Khadgar darted over, smiling brightly.

“Hello! Can I borrow you a moment?” Khadgar asked, trying his best to sound happy, but not  _ chirpy _ , but definitely upbeat. Illidan’s blindfold crinkled as - Khadgar presumed - he raised his brows slowly, and Khadgar got the sinking feeling he’d come off as simply  _ dangerously manic _ . But that would do, so long as Illidan actually came with him instead of continuing to speak to what seemed like every demon hunter on the Shore.

“I… suppose. Is something wrong, Archmage?”

Khadgar shook his head and reached out a hand to lead Illidan by the arm, before thinking better of it and just limply waving in the general direction of his - oversized, and even bigger in the inside, and horridly but  _ wonderfully _ luxurious - tent. “No, no, nothing wrong at all! I just wanted to speak to you privately a moment. You’ve been rather occupied lately, I was beginning to think I would have to schedule an appointment!”

He looked up just in time to catch the minute, upward twitch of Illidan’s mouth before it vanished. The thrill he got from that was likely ridiculously oversized, but he’d long ago resigned himself to being a fool on many subjects, so what was one more, really?

“I somehow doubt you ever schedule appointments, Archmage.”

Khadgar grinned up - and up, Illidan really was amazingly large, and he would  _ not  _ be thinking about that and proportions and such at this moment - at him as they made their way to the tent. “Is it that obvious? And call me Khadgar, please. Unless I should start calling you… what is it your students call you? Master?”

_ Not that you’d mind calling him that,  _ he thought to himself, before soundly kicking that part of his mind into a deep, dark corner, where it hopefully wouldn’t bother him for the rest of this conversation.

Illidan smirked outright this time, before ducking into Khadgar’s tent. He was very mindful of his horns and wings as he gingerly settled on a purple, plushly padded bench. Khadgar had made sure to have seating available for him, of course. It would have been rude to not do so, after all. “Khadgar, then.” He paused expectantly as Khadgar conjured a tea set on the coffee table in front of Illidan’s bench and fiddled with it, making up a batch with some Nightborne brew from his bag. Apparently giving up on giving Khadgar a moment, he cleared his throat. “You wanted to speak to me privately about something?”

Khadgar leapt up from where he had been about to settle into an armchair, as if he had forgotten what he’d brought Illidan into his tent for until that moment. He hadn’t, of course, but it was a far better impression to give off than that he was desperately stalling for time. “Oh yes, of course! Pardon me, where did I put it… oh, help yourself to the tea while I look, I hope it’s to your tastes.”

He dithered about, popping his head into this chest and that shelf, as Illidan poured himself some tea. He took note of the surprising amount of sugar Illidan added - almost as much as he himself did, and he’d been scolded for the amount regularly as a youth - as he devoted himself to pretending he didn’t know exactly where the item he was looking for was. After a few minutes Illidan seemed to give in, sighing deeply before shifting around to be more comfortable and taking a quick sip of the tea.

He obviously hadn’t expected to like it, if the surprised tone of grunt was any indication. Khadgar turned to smile at him. “I thought you might enjoy that! Thalyssra was kind enough to gift it to me - she says the plants involved haven’t been allowed to change a whit in ten thousand years, and I admit I’m grateful. Floral teas aren’t usually my favorites, but this seems to be the exception.”

Illidan blinked at him, the burning green of his eyes going dark for a moment and then returning, before speaking. “It’s possible I should be surprised the elves of Suramar kept everything, even their tea, the same for so long. But they always were resistant to change. We used similar blends in the Moonguard - though usually with something added to keep us awake.” He took another, longer drink before prodding Khadgar further. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Oh!” Khadgar had, honestly, forgotten this time. It was dangerously easy to get distracted by the sight of Illidan Stormrage  _ enjoying _ something. “Just a moment - aha!” He flitted over to the trunk at the foot of his bed and poked around for a second before coming up with a large, velvet bag held in one hand. It was a rich, deep red, the velvet absurdly plush and practically thrumming with the power of the charms and spells layered on it - mostly security based, locking, notice-me-not, etc, but also a simple luck enchantment and a low level relaxation charm. Khadgar ran his thumb over the bag, proud of his handiwork, before turning to present it to his guest. “Here we are!”

Illidan frowned, setting his teacup down on the table before reaching out cautiously. “What’s inside of it? It’s enchanted, but with the other spells it’s hard to discern. A weapon?”

Khadgar pressed the bag into Illidan’s taloned hand and shook his head fondly. “No, a gift.”

Illidan tilted his head, confused. “For whom?”

“For you, of course. Why else would I be giving it to you?”

Illidan jerked slightly, wings flaring just a tad before spanning closed again. “You got a gift for… me? Why?”

He sounded so utterly baffled it broke Khadgar’s heart a little bit. How long had it been since someone had gotten this man a gift?! A horrible oversight on the world’s part, to be sure. Khadgar cleared his throat nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Standing, with Illidan sitting in front of him, they are just about the same height - it made this both better and worse.

“Well. I, ah. Hmm. We’ve had our differences - “

“You were party to both my murder and my return to life.”

Khadgar puffed up a bit, latching on to the segue. “Now, you see, I was party to the decision to aid in eliminating a threat to Shattrath and the Horde and Alliance forces in the Outlands - not  _ you _ , personally. I’ll leave the vendettas to Maiev, thank you.”

Surprisingly, Illidan chuckled. Khadgar feared for a moment his poor old heart might give out. “Fair enough. But you still haven’t said why…?”

Dammit all. “Indeed I didn’t.” He cleared his throat and set his shoulders back a bit. “Well, I suppose because… I’m fond of you.”

The blank stare he received in response was not at all encouraging, but he pressed on.

“I enjoy your company - the dry humor, the comebacks, it’s all quite delightful, really.” Still silence. “And questionable history aside - on both our counts, and I am sorry about the ‘party to your murder’ bit, truly, though thankfully you don’t seem to be holding a grudge - we seem to get along rather well. And not just professionally. Which is a rarity for me, honestly, people tend to start to dislike me after a while, for some reason or other, even if we continue to do good work. And I-I would be interested in seeing more of you. Personally.” He cleared his throat, still faced with the blank, purple wall that Illidan seemed to have turned into at some point. He licked his lips. “Romantically, even, if you’re amenable.” A slight twitch of a wing, nothing more. “If you’re not interested in that then I’d gladly be your friend, I’m too old for foolish awkwardness really, and I - ah - oh would you  _ say something _ already?!”

Illidan’s head reared back a bit at Khadgar’s raised tone. He paused, mouth open, before speaking. “I was supposed to say something?”

“One generally responds in some fashion to such a statement,  _ yes _ or  _ no _ at the very least!” Khadgar was beginning to feel the strong urge to teleport to the nearest lava pool, but he held himself in check. His thoughts raced down all the myriad ways Illidan could rip him into tiny bits, or humiliate him, or rip him into tiny bits  _ while _ humiliating him, which he had thus far been ignoring but was suddenly unable to.

“Yes.”

Khadgar blinked, then he exhaled with a  _ whuff _ . “To which part?” he asked, weakly.

Illidan shifted a bit in his seat, and Khadgar had the thought that he was just as uncomfortable in this moment as he was. “To… personally.” Khadgar’s heart did a strange up-down maneuver in his chest, unable to decide if it was more happy that he seemed to be gaining a friend, or sad that nothing… else would be happening. Then Illidan flapped his wings a little, drawing Khadgar’s attention again. “And… romantically, as well. If you - “ He broke off into a small noise of frustration, hand tightening on the bag.

Khadgar moved rapidly around the coffee table and took Illidan’s hand in his own. “Be careful of the fabric,” he muttered, more focused on the warmth of Illidan’s skin than anything. He blinked, realizing something. “You still haven’t opened it! Go on.”

Illidan seemed to be a little delayed in his reactions - Khadgar hoped he wasn’t lost in thought, regretting saying yes to anything. But he shook himself a bit and brought his other hand up to tug on Khadgar’s wrist. His voice was lower and softer than usual when he spoke. “Tell me what these spells on the bag are, first. I haven’t seen some of them before. And sit.”

Sitting next to Illidan on the bench suddenly seemed like a very daring act, and an exciting one, so Khadgar did it. Once he was comfortable he showed Illidan each of the layers of magic, and gave him the magical “keys” to each one. By the time he was done they were leaning into each other’s shoulders - or, more accurately, Khadgar was leaning against Illidan, and Illidan had moved his wing somewhat around him to accommodate. Khadgar was fairly certain that if Illidan leaned any substantial portion of his weight against him, he’d topple over like a blade of grass. Which wouldn’t be  _ bad, _ per se, but… not just yet. And preferably not on a bench.

Bag thoroughly examined, Khadgar jostled Illidan eagerly.  _ “Now _ open it!”

Illidan smiled slightly, one claw at the ties. “But it’s so very entertaining to watch you wait.”

Khadgar had several replies to that, most of them unseemly in one fashion or other, but instead he knocked one booted foot against Illidan’s leg. “But  _ you _ wanted to know what was inside. And I won’t tell you, so you’ll have to open it to see.”

Shaking his head, Illidan opened the bag, peeked inside it  - and stopped. Khadgar held his breath. His gift would either be a fun trinket or a headache of unholy proportions, and he had no way of knowing until Illidan spoke again. Which he seemed disinclined to do.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it,” Khadgar stated after a solid two minutes - he’d counted - of silence, and sighed out his nose. It seemed to rouse Illidan from his stupor, at least. He snapped his head to the side to meet Khadgar’s eyes.

“W-  _ no,  _ it’s - how did you do this?”

Khadgar fidgeted under his burning - literally  _ and  _ figuratively - gaze. “It was an experiment, honestly. I heard from some of your demon hunters than the more energy put into a spell, the brighter the color of magic they would see. So, I started fiddling with a few coins, and casting little do-nothing spells on them with far too much power behind them, and got one of the demon hunter’s to look at them and tell me which had the best colors.” He shrugged. “Then I just… combined several of them. Each one should be different.”

Illidan plucked out one of the coins faster than Khadgar could catch. It shimmered in the air to Khadgar’s eyes, leaving bright trails of sparkles and rainbows behind it as it moved - two of the little spells Khadgar had used most often, as apparently they made bright, simple, happy colors of some sort to magical vision. Seeing a nick in one of the edges, he thought he remembered placing several others on it… rust-repelling, to always land on one particular point if thrown - he’d chosen the edge, at a point that made the head upside down, if it  _ was _ the one he was thinking of - and a third that would make the coin glow blue under a full moon. All harmless and mostly useless, but apparently pretty.

Khadgar decided to tell Illidan what spells he’d used on that one, and Illidan promptly flipped the coin, and chuckled when it landed in it’s edge, head upside down, on the flat of his palm. “It’s…” he rolled the coin over his knuckles before exchanging it for another from the bag. “There was a toy I used to play with as a child, sometimes. A tube, and you’d look into it and see a million colors reflecting against each other, like shattered glass.”

Khadgar hummed, interested. “A kaleidoscope?”

Illidan nodded. “These look like that, but brighter.” He waved the new coin back and forth in the air, and Khadgar tried to remember what spell he could’ve used on it to make the air ripple like that. Some sort of water illusion, probably. “And it  _ moves.” _

Khadgar found himself abruptly without a support as Illidan turned to face him. The coin pressed into his cheek when Illidan took his face in his large, clawed hands.  _ “Thank you,” _ he murmured, fervent as a prayer, and Khadgar forgot to breathe when warm lips pressed to his forehead. Illidan drew back after a heartbeat, looking a bit sheepish as Khadgar continued to gape at him.

He seemed about ready to say something when a high, clear voice called out for Illidan, breaking the moment. Khadgar smiled brightly, heart racing and cheeks hurting with how happy he was just then - that he’d done what he’d hoped to with the coins, and that Illidan seemed as fond of him as he was of Illidan, and a thousand other little things. He patted Illidan on the shoulder.

“Go on, before one of them gets stuck in a tree again.”

Illidan’s vaguely pained look set Khadgar to laughing, bent over his lap with one hand clapped over his mouth to try and muffle it, but he still thought he caught Illidan outright  _ grinning _ before he walked out into the camp.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're imagining Khadgar doing the teenage girl bounce-and-spin-and-grin dance once Illidan leaves, you'd be right.
> 
> If there's any typos or whatever that I missed, let me know please! And I love comments~


End file.
